Street Fighters
by arcanioque
Summary: There’s only one thing Yuuta can ever have in common with these Seigaku regulars. [ feat. videogame!yuuta, eiji, momo, ryo ]


Street Fighters

There's only one thing Yuuta can ever have in common with these Seigaku regulars. [ friendship fic, feat. videogame!yuuta, eiji, momo, ryoma

a/n:

Okay...so I know I'm supposed to be sick of my eijimomoryo friendshippy fixes already. But guess what, I'm not! And i've decided to include my favorite St. Rudolph character here – Yuuta!

And yes, I can't get over my own fetish for video games, too.. That'll probably explain the entire plot (or lack thereof).

Disclaimer: me no own Prince of Tennis nor the PS2 franchise and their games yadda yadda you get the meaning. (But I DO have a PS2, though. ehehehe.)

-

Yuuta thinks his Aniki has gone mad when Syuusuke turns to his younger brother one day and remarks to him, "Saa, Yuuta, I think you'll get on excellently well with some of my friends at Seigaku." It's not like Yuuta doesn't know who Aniki is referring to, but when it comes down to a lone boy at St. Rudolph with some Seigaku regulars – what exactly is there that they have in common other than beating each other's crap out in tennis?

"You mean, tennis, Aniki?" Yuuta questions back, confused.

"Iie."

Yuuta should have taken heed when he catches sight of that glint hinting at the corner of those blue eyes. If he could have chosen that exact moment to run out of the house, or risk jumping out of his bedroom's window despite breaking seven bones in the ribs, he would not have to suffer his Aniki's death grip against his wrist as Syuusuke yanks his brother out of his room, out of their house, into the streets, into the direction of _someone's _house.

That, would perhaps explain how five minutes later, Yuuta finds himself seated uneasily in front of a huge TV screen, surrounded by three familiar Seigaku regulars decked in the main colors of their school – red, blue and white.

"Ya-ho! What is Fujiko-no-otouto doing in Momo's house, nyaa!"

Yuuta closes his eyes. This is a nightmare. This has got to be a nightmare. Please don't let Kikumaru glomp me, please don't—

GLOMPS.

Oh...god, Yuuta swears he'll kill his Aniki once this is over. If it ever will be over.

But when he finally gets the chance to breathe, and takes a second look around the place, it hits him that this really is that Whatever-Dunk-vertical-Smash-freak's house, and that there is said person beside the person who had just glomped him, and there's...there's Echizen. Which is a very, very weird sight.

Yuuta blinks, then rubs his eyes.

No way in hell he could EVER, ever get along with this threesome. And why the hell would a tennis prince like Echizen (indifferent and devoid of emotions) be mixing around with these hyperactive sempais? Yuuta rolls his eyes. Seigaku and their Regulars aren't so different from his Aniki in that they all have the weirdest personalities. (Not like his St. Rudolph tennis friends are any better, but this...was just plain WEIRD.)

Then Yuuta catches glimpse of something out of the corner of his eyes, and he realizes what Syuusuke means.

A black, neat, shiny box.

"Oi, Yuuta," Momoshiro waves something in his eyes. Yuuta isn't stupid to miss out the fact that he's actually been called _Yuuta _and not...and not something else that he really really doesn't like and will switch to murdeous mode if anyone pulls that on him, "Fuji-sempai says you're really good at this."

It's very very hard not to smirk when you know you're a talent at something that even your Aniki isn't even as good as. Who cares if your talent is bred only because you've spend nearly seven years of your life housed in with your own black, neat, shiny box? (Except for Yuuta, it's green in color, because he painted it all green with army-colored stripes on his tenth birthday. With the help of his Aniki, of course.)

"What, Takeshi, are you challenging me?" Yuuta folds his arms.

Beside Momoshiro, Ryoma looks up from beneath his cap and eyes him steadily.

Then Ponta in hands brought to his lips, he says with a smirk, "Mada mada dane."

Apparently, that Echizen looks enough of a threat. Who knows if the prince of tennis is a prince of that neat, black, shiny box outside the courts, too?

"Hoi, hoi! Let's PLAY, nyaa, Fujiko-no—"

"YUUTA! YUUTA! The name's YUUTA!" He yells and punches his fist in the air just in time to ward off a potentially glomping Eiji.

-

Five hours and fifty-five minutes later, the four of them lay on the futons in Momoshiro's room. Fifteen packs of potato chips of barbequed, salted and curry flavor lay around the place, together with twenty-two Ponta drink cans now empty. Fifty-six different kinds of video game cases are tossed around the room in a mess, and the shining two black controllers remain in Yuuta's and Ryoma's hands.

The PS2 remains switched on.

"Mada mada dane, _Yuuta._" Ryoma remarks, pulling his cap over his face. He's perspiring. (And he doesn't even perspire on the courts sometimes on the hottest days. But when you've just spent the last few hours in intense concentration kicking Cyclops' butt using Spiderman, that's much to be said enough.)

Yuuta throws a thumbs-down to Ryoma. He finally finds something he's better than Echizen at.

"Yuuta-kun, Yuuta-kun!" Beside him, Eiji can't stop pouting and pleading and mustering that puppy eye look of his. "Teach me how to control Cyclops, please, please!"

"Jeez, Kikumaru-sempai," Momoshiro complains, "Stick to your Ryu!"

"Yadda!" Eiji glomps Yuuta from the back when the latter sits up, throwing him down again into a pile.

"GET OFF ME, KIKUMARU! I'll tell Aniki!" He yells in rage.

Said person pouts, and proceeds to glomp his Ochibi. (The one and only.)

"Yuuta, I hate you." Ryoma mutters under the weighty attack from his sempai.

Yuuta only grins and rubs the back of his head.

In front of him, Momoshiro's already readying himself with the controller for a second round of Marvel vs. Capcom. It's a classic game that he stills keeps in his video game collection. "Tch, I can't believe I can't beat you in this! I'm supposed to be King of Games!"

Yuuta sits up and picks up his controller.

He'll show Momoshiro who's King.

Behind, Eiji raises his hand and gesticulates as the referee. "Ready, one, two, three!"

Sixty seconds to thrash Momoshiro's Hulk with Cyclops.

Yuuta's nose itches, and he rubs it with his fingers.

In the same second, he manages to hide the tiny smile hinting at the corner of his lips.

He'll remember to thank Aniki later. For now, as he watches Momoshiro swerve animatedly left to right in tune with Hulk's movements, Yuuta believes he still has a job to settle with.

**owari **

a/n:

...Well, that's only because I really really love my childhood days growing up playing Street Fighters and those awesome Marvel characters. Yeah! (pumps fists into the air!)

Go Yuuta! (checks wikipedia. it's so awesome that he loves playing video games, too.)

squishes yuuta and my eijimomoryo friendship threesome.


End file.
